My phone has taken to closing out certain apps when I’m in the middle of using them. The other day I was trying to send a short text to a friend, and the window kept closing before I could hit ‘Send’. I tried to make a quick call in lieu of the text, and my phone kept closing the call app. At this point, the message was unimportant. I was enraged. I threw the phone across the room, wishing it would break so I’d be forced to break up with it, but no dice. That asshole is sturdier than a Nokia.
Later that same day I came across this thread, and the joy I felt in realizing I was not alone in my rage can scarcely be put into words. Redditor bongofury posed the question, “What is the angriest you’ve been at an inanimate object and why?”
Here I’ve gathered for you a few of my favorite responses from the thread, but if you have the time be sure to check out the full thing. I could only bring so much of the goodness back with me.
Let’s begin with a tale from Gyaruson:
My wife had this terrible wingback chair that she made me keep around, even though it was hideous and I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to it. Things between my wife and I got rough, and she moved out. Shortly thereafter – before she got all of her stuff – I stubbed my toe on the leg of the chair whilst carrying some stuff to the living room. That, combined with my current mental state regarding the owner of the chair, was the last straw. I took the chair out to our dumpster, and proceed to beat the everloving shit out of it until it was broken into a bunch of tiny splinters and cloth pieces.
Man, that felt good.
Youngphi shows concern for the involved parties:
Did you guys get back together? How are things?
Guyaruson responds with the ol’ Reddit switcheroo:
I see the chair on weekends, when we meet to swap the ottoman. The chair gets Mondays through Wednesdays, and every other weekend. The pain has healed, but I fear it’s tough on the ottoman. I just want to make sure he knows that we didn’t do this because of him. Sometimes, I just don’t know. I feel like I’ve let him down, as a father. It’s tough, ya know. Living with regret like that.
HisSelf taught his mower a lesson it’ll never forget:
I shot and killed my Craftsman push mower after trying to start it (yet again). I used a double barreled 12 gauge and hung it in my garage for a couple of years. I told my wife I hung it as a reminder to myself to not lose my patience. The truth is I hung it up as a warning to future mowers.
Shark-Farts felt a pain we’ve all known:
“Turn left”
Turns left
“Recalculating”
FUCK YOU WITH A RUSTY SPIKED BAT
Dcmjim lost his cool over ice cream:
I once tried to scoop ice cream with a table spoon, only for it to bend under the pressure. I proceeded to bend that little fucker into a ball of hatred and cheap Chinese stainless steel and put it back in the drawer.
His treatment of the spoon hits Jman0123 right in the feels:
I don’t have the slightest idea why, but I just felt seriously fucking bad for your spoon.
Poor guy finally gets the chance to please his master. He has been waiting for this moment his entire life. He’s pretty nervous and he knows he may not be well-prepared, but he is overflowing with confidence. Then, his worst fear. Ice cream. He bends, and ohhhh the pain. It is awful. He knows he has failed. The mixture of excruciating pain and crippling humiliation bring the once chipper and confident young spoon to tears. He looks through teary eyes up at you for forgiveness. But oh no. You are a cruel and unforgiving god. You bend more. and more. and more. The cries he let out could make Satan weep. His cries mean nothing to you. You toss him like cheap trash back into the drawer. A humiliated and twisted heap of steel, he lives out the remainder of his days facing ridicule and judgement from his family and friends. Life will never be the same for him. And all he ever wanted to do was make you happy. Why? Why did you do it?
ChunkyD233‘s roommate had some issues with a door:
I had a roommate who gave up on installing a door. She then took it outside and smashed holes in it with a mallet. Then she threw it off a balcony and then took marinara sauce and poured it onto the door from the balcony (so it would look like blood).
I was a little scared.
Summon_Jet_Truck had to find new outlet for his anger:
I punched a chair because my pants weren’t fitting right.
Think about it. You can’t punch pants.
Synthh got into a row with a machine:
Self checkout tills! There will be a very unexpected item in the bagging area if you don’t shut the fuck up!
Uniqueorn has a rather toxic relationship with their vacuum cleaner:
My vacuum cleaner. It gets stuck and starts making this ungodly squeek, then rolls over on it’s back. I get so rattled I just start dragging it along the floor as a “punishment” while it’s laying wheels up, making an ungodly screech that makes me even angrier. This battle takes place in my living room every time I try to clean my house. Makes me mad just typing this.
TL;DR Vacuum cleaner gets defiant and I punish it.
Xanif‘s dad would probably be thrilled to know one of his finer moments lives in infamy on the internet:
Not me, but my dad burned his hand on a skillet he was cooking with. His reaction was to punch the offending skillet.
It worked as well as expected.
W0wzers finds their way into my heart with a solidly awful pun (about glasses, no less):
Getting my glasses knocked off sends me into a blind rage.
I think it’s safe to say Zagreus9 is not an Apple fanboy:
Oh, iTunes cannot recognise device? Well maybe laptop will be able to recognize KATANA!
Haganeno calls out higher education:
Motherfucking university web sites. What sick bastard designed you, you goddamned abomination.
Then Triangleshower hits him where it hurts:
Your Peoplesoft session has expired.
Danzo-Is-The-Best has issues with handles:
The apparent love story of door handles, and my headphones.
Capt_Ido_Nos feels their pain:
You mean the apparent love story of door handles, and my belt loops?
I’ll close with this wonderful story from Redditor wcdude18. I think it’s safe to say that at some point in your childhood, you did something equally stupid.
I got REAL pissed at my old Schwinn 10-speed when I was a kid back in the 80′s. Specifically, the front wheel.
Little backstory: I saved all of my allowance and lawn mowing money for a couple years so I could get a 10-speed. I had a dirtbike, but a 10-speed would make my daily trips to the community pool easier since it was a couple miles and there was a big-ass hill to ride up. Gears are better than no gears.
Anyway, I must have banged my front tire on a curb or something, because this one day while riding home, my front rim brake was rubbing pretty bad. Not constantly rubbing, but with each turn of the wheel. Rub, rub, rub. Made an annoying noise and grabbed juuuuust enough to put a hitch in my pedaling cadence to be annoying.
I had ridden the whole way home with this rubbing, and by the time I got to the top of the big hill I had to ride up, I was plenty fed up with it. I must have been no more than two houses away from my own when that front tire rubbed one more time and I snapped.
In a fit of kid-rage, my uneducated mind burst forth into action to tame that damn rubbing rim and teach it that pissing off your rider has dire consequences. I swung my foot off the pedal and round to the front tire in an effort to kick the shit out of it with blind rage.
Yeah, you guessed it: my foot got wedged in the spokes of my front tire. I knew what was going to happen as it was happening, and that just made my anger worse. My foot made a full revolution lodged in the spokes until it met up with the front forks of my bike (which hold the tire in place). Since my foot couldn’t continue on it’s circular path due to the forks, and the wheel couldn’t continue to turn since my foot was in the spokes … yeah, flipped ass-over-elbows over my handlebars in the middle of the street.
I don’t think I laid there long at all, rather immediately springing up since I knew what I had done to myself before I even hit the pavement. Regardless, the fault was not my own at that moment; rather, the bastardly rubbing front brake of my Schwinn 10-speed bicycle. I gave it a kick or two as it lay in a heap in the street, picked it up and ran the rest of the way home – cursing the very existence of the bike along the way, mind you. It was thrown down with reckless abandon on my front lawn as I stomped inside to tell my mom how much of a fucker that bike was for flipping me in the street.
TL;DR: I’m an idiot.
